


Sick Boys

by liberalmage



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Punk, Barebacking, Bottom Erik, Erik Being Cocky, Erik has Feelings, Fuckbuddies, Honestly Charles What Are You Thinking, M/M, Oblivious Charles, Past Underage Sex, Piercings, Public Sex, Top Charles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2014-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-21 00:00:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2447879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liberalmage/pseuds/liberalmage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But that's the main reason Charles chose Erik in the first place—he's the kind of boy who wears leather jackets with safety pins stuck through them, dirty Ramones t-shirts, and old, faded jeans with giant holes in the knees. He has clunky combat boots and he refuses to get dressed for gym, even when the teacher gives him detention for it. And his hair is perfect to grip onto at any given time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sick Boys

**Author's Note:**

> I apologize in advance for the terrible porn, I have a headache and didn't want to edit it all the way through, and this is completely self-indulgent. Horrible. Stupid attractive punk aesthetics and romantic punk lifestyles. (And go listen to the song [Sick Boys](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AfUZAMoQXoc) by Social Distortion, which is where the title's from.)

The first time Charles and Erik made out was at a party. Cliche? Very. But Charles was mad at his mother and step-father and Erik is just generally mad at the world, so it worked. All teeth and tongues and dry humping against each other until Erik jerked him off inside his pants, then allowing Charles to reciprocate. Charles came out of it with no less than ten hickeys and a stupid grin on his face.

It was just a one time thing. Being angry at his parents and having a short stint of rebellion is normal for kids his age, isn't it? He was seventeen when it first happened. He was _allowed_ to have those fits, especially when his family was trying to force him into things he didn't (and still doesn't) want to do. He wants to become a professor, study and teach genetics, not take over Xavier Pharmaceuticals and be miserable for the rest of his life.

But then Erik came around again with his leather jacket and the way he would look Charles up and down like he was something that Erik could just eat up, Charles had no choice but to drag him into the dirty school bathroom and kiss the bored smirk off his face.

Technically, they aren't dating. They make out, and sometimes, when they want to and have the time and means to, they fuck. Charles hates how much he loves it, hates how much he loves the whiff of leather and cigarettes he gets when he kisses Erik's neck, hates the way Erik makes him tremble in the backseat of his car. Hates the way Erik fucking _takes_ like _he's_ the one in control, even though Charles is the one with his cock in the punk's ass.

But that's the main reason Charles chose Erik in the first place—he's the kind of boy who wears leather jackets with safety pins stuck through them, dirty Ramones t-shirts, and old, faded jeans with giant holes in the knees. He has clunky combat boots and he refuses to get dressed for gym, even when the teacher gives him detention for it. And his hair is perfect to grip onto at any given time.

And now it's like Charles is _addicted_. He can't help but gravitate towards Erik when he's in a bad mood, shoot him a text or find him at where he and his friends usually hang out. He even reaches out when he wants to celebrate, asks Erik if he wants to get together and the answer is almost always a yes.

Until one day Charles sends a text to Erik and gets back a simple, two letter word: _no_.

Charles knows how to handle rejection, and he's fine with it. So he leaves it be, and instead just rants at Raven over the phone. She gives sympathetic noises through out, but it's nothing compared to the moans Charles could be wrenching out of Erik.

But then Erik says no the next time. And the next. And he's not sick, or dead, because Charles sees him at school (not that Erik so much as glances in his direction), so he doesn't _get it_. It crosses his mind that maybe, Erik just wants to break it off; maybe he's sick of Charles, sick of their fleeting moments spent together fucking pretty filthily. Charles doesn't understand how he could get sick of it, because it was pretty damn good, but in order to figure out why, he'd need to talk to Erik. And he doesn't like talking to Erik.

Of course, he has talked to Erik, but their opinions clash so violently that it almost always ends up in angry sex, and neither of them ever want to say sorry to each other. They never want to offer up a compromise. It's Erik's way, or it's Charles' way; never both or even neither.

“Alright,” Raven says when Charles calls her for the umpteenth time that week, complaining about different things. He's so sexually frustrated he feels like he's going to cry. It's certainly been a while since he went so long without getting laid, and now that Erik's just cutting him off like this without warning, he's even more frustrated than he would have been with an explanation. “Why do you keep calling me? You never used to so much.”

“You're my best friend,” Charles replies, lying on his bed and staring at his ceiling, feeling restless, yet not wanting to pace until his feet hurt. “It's kind of your job to listen to me complain when I need to.”

Raven scoffs. “No, it's Lehnsherr's job to fuck the bitching and moaning out of you, and quite literally, too,” she says, and Charles feels his face flush despite being used to hearing this type of thing from her. But still, his and Erik's sex life feels almost private, like something to be held between just them, though he's told Raven and Erik's almost definitely told his friends, if they haven't already figured out the obvious. “So, did you fire him or something?”

Charles chews on his lip, unsure if he wants to tell her how Erik's been giving him the cold shoulder lately. He feels disgruntled by the way he's been getting brushed off, but he doesn't want to seem _desperate_ , not to her, and _definitely_ not to Erik. “No,” he answers finally. “You're right. I'll stop bothering you.”

“I didn't mean it like that,” she sighs. “I love you, Charles, but sometimes you can be an oblivious bastard. Try to work out whatever's up between you guys, okay? I have to go.” She hangs up then, and Charles just _knows_ she's with Azazel. Charles hopes he doesn't end up being like some of the other people Raven has dated.

This time, when he texts Erik, he doesn't ask if they can fuck. Instead, he sends: _Can we talk?_

He gets a message back an instant later. _No_.

What the fuck? Charles has no idea what he did, but he had to have done something pretty damn bad to get Erik to ignore him like this. He didn't say anything harmful, did he? He hopes he didn't, at least, because everything between him and Erik has been mostly lighthearted. They may sneer insults at each other, some of them pretty harsh, but neither of them ever really means it. That was how _he_ saw it, anyway.

He decides the only thing he can really do is track Erik down and demand an answer. Usually, Charles likes to think of himself as a relatively patient person, but with Erik it's like he's a completely different person. Charles doesn't have expectations to uphold, feelings to care about, because they fuck and then it's done.

For some reason, the thought makes him feel hollow, instead of comforted.

When he finds Erik, it's the third spot he tried—the park, relatively close to Erik's house, a place they rarely hang around because the police are more likely to catch them there. But it seems Alex and Sean are busy vandalizing a picnic table, the sound of joyous laughter and spray paint being used filling the air.

The first one who sees Charles approaching is Emma, who doesn't look very punk at all—she mostly wears white, but Charles supposes that's her own brand of punk. It's like she gets punk things specially made in white just to keep up with her whole White Witch theme. She glares at him almost instantly, and he glares back, in no mood to deal with her. Emma can be okay, sometimes, but otherwise he doesn't like her one bit.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” she drawls, taking a slow drag of her cigarette. She's sitting on a picnic table with Erik, next to the one Alex and Sean are working on. “Been a while, lover boy.”

At that, Erik looks up from his phone, a cigarette held between his lips. Upon seeing Charles, he takes it from his mouth, his lips forming a straight line. He doesn't look happy to see Charles at all, but that doesn't matter. “What are you doing here?” he asks, as he takes a drag, obviously determined to act like nothing's wrong.

“I wanna talk,” Charles answers, simply enough; that's honestly all he wants from Erik. To get off would be nice, too, but mostly he just wants an answer as to why Erik's ignoring him. He motions to the side, so they can go somewhere a bit more private. “Can we...?”

“No,” Erik interrupts, and there's that damn word is again. “I don't wanna talk, and I sure as hell don't wanna go anywhere with you.”

Emma huffs. They both ignore her.

“Okay, that's what I don't understand,” Charles says, anger seeping into his voice. “ _Why_ are you ignoring me? That's all I want to know, then I'll leave, never speak to you again, whatever you want. It's just—did I _do_ something?”

Erik narrows his eyes, glaring. “No,” he responds, voice clipped. “You didn't _do_ anything.”

By now Sean and Alex both have stopped vandalizing the picnic table and instead are watching them. “A lover's spat,” Sean muses, shaking a can of spray pain idly.

Alex cups his hands over his mouth and lowers his voice a bit, imitating a narrator. “Now we see two clueless douchebags in their natural habitat...” At that, Emma throws a tube of lipstick at Alex, hitting him right on the eye and making him yell in pain.

“I don't know what that's supposed to _mean_ ,” Charles stresses, pinching the bridge of his nose out of frustration. “Can we _please_ just—don't you dare say no again!”

Erik is still glaring, but, _finally_ , he gets up. “Lead the way,” he tells Charles, bitterly, motioning for him to start walking.

Charles huffs but starts walking towards the playground equipment, which is dirty and abandoned for the night. Summer is so close, Charles can nearly taste it in the air; kids are already starting to beg their parents to take them to the park, summer clothing is being set out for display in stores. He's seeing more and more Adventure Land commercials on TV, advertising their water park.

This summer is special, though: it'll be his first summer as a legal adult, and he can finally _leave_. It's also, in a way, his last summer as a kid. Last summer before college, last summer in this town, probably. His only summer with Erik, more than likely.

 _If_ they resolve whatever Erik's pissed about, which they might not. It makes Charles much more upset than it should, since they're just fuck buddies. It's stupid to be so possessive, to care so much about somebody that isn't even yours. But Charles has never been smart in the social sense. Raven likes to call him socially inept, and teases that the only way he'd be good with people is if he could read minds.

When Charles stop, Erik does, too. They're not too far apart, maybe five feet, but it feels too far for Charles. A lot of his time spent with Erik is up close and personal, and he misses it already. “Why are you angry with me?” Charles decides is a good starting question, crossing his arms uncomfortably over his chest.

Erik is silent for a good minute, before finally: “Because you're a fucking idiot.”

Charles frowns, because that's too vague for him to fix anything. “Alright,” he says, slowly. “How so?”

“A fucking _oblivious_ idiot,” Erik corrects, looking less angry and more so completely exasperated. “Shit, Charles, you just—you seriously don't get it, do you? You're dumber than I thought.”

“Now you're just being mean.”

“You don't seem to be understanding,” Erik says, slowly, almost mockingly. “I'm tired of you coming along and—and fucking me into next week, only to leave and then act like I mean nothing to you the rest of the time. I'm sick of being used like I'm just your whore. I don't belong to you, Charles, you can't just take as you please.”

And this is about the time Charles begins to feel like a complete and utter idiot.

“No, Erik, I didn't,” he's starting to panic, he needs to slow down but he really hates the hurt look on Erik's face, “mean to ever imply I thought I owned you! Quite the opposite, actually, I assumed you were okay with the way things were—“

“That's what makes you an ass.”

Charles feels guilty to say the least. He feels that way because he hadn't stopped to consider Erik's feelings on the matter, had only weighed his own and that hurt Erik. He's suddenly realizing that Erik isn't just a fuck to him, isn't his dirty little secret who he takes frustrations out on. He's Erik, and Charles _really_ likes that.

Fuck. He _likes_ Erik.

Goddamn it, he _is_ a fucking oblivious idiot.

“You have feelings,” Charles states, because he never can actually learn from his mistakes. This is quickly turning into a train wreck and Charles honestly just wants to hide under a blanket.

Erik's expression closes off and his disappointment is palpable. He even starts to turn away, sick of dealing with Charles' idiocy, apparently, but Charles stops him. He doesn't think he could live with himself if he leaves things the way they are now.

“Wait, Erik,” he says, taking a couple steps forward and reaching out to take hold of the other boy's arm. He almost expects him to yank away, but he doesn't; instead, he stills completely. He doesn't look at Charles, doesn't even acknowledge him, just waits.

Charles clears his throat, tightening his grip on Erik's arm. “I'm sorry. You're right, I'm stupid, and an insensitive ass. I just... didn't think you actually liked me.” The words sound dumb out loud, because Erik isn't the type to fuck people he doesn't like. Charles knows this much, and should have realized it before.

Erik doesn't say anything to that, so Charles barrels on. “I, um. I like you. Romantically, and obviously I am very attracted to you sexually, but could we just—go out sometime? I could take you out for dinner, someplace very nice, I promise. Or we could go to Adventure Land. You could even invite your friends, it'd be fun—“

“Charles.”

“Yeah?”

“Shut up.”

Charles flushes, embarrassed by his rambling. He releases Erik's arm and takes a step back. “I'm sorry. I got carried away there for a second. You probably weren't even going to say yes. Idiot me, assuming again.” He knocks on his head as if it's hollow in there, but it's really his chest that feels that way, for the second time that evening.

Erik stares at him, almost like he's looking for something. Charles doesn't say anything, but silently he hopes Erik finds whatever he's looking for, because he doesn't want to lose Erik before he's even had him.

As it turns out, Erik was never planning on saying anything, instead just leaning down and kissing Charles. It feels warm, familiar, the way Erik's lip ring rubs against his lips, and Charles wouldn't be in his right mind to push him away. Instead, he wraps his arms around Erik's neck and pulls him in closer, tilting his head to deepen the kiss, opening his mouth when Erik's pierced tongue slides against his closed lips.

Erik digs his fingers into Charles' sides, pushing him backwards onto the stairs of the playground equipment, straddling his lap. The stairs are metal, and therefore hard and uncomfortable, but Charles doesn't much mind. “Are we honestly going to have sex on _playground equipment_?” Charles asks, incredulous. This might be as bad as that time Erik gave him a blowjob in an alleyway behind a church.

Undoing Charles' belt, Erik gives a breathy laugh. “Guess we are,” he answers, giving Charles a quick kiss before tugging on his jeans, a sign he should lift his hips. The metal is cold underneath Charles' ass, but Erik's head on top of him makes up for it tenfold, so he isn't going to complain now.

Charles knows Erik like the back of his hand by now, what his body wants, and needs. Gladly, this also means Erik knows what _Charles_ likes, which means it doesn't take long for Charles to get fully hard; but that also probably has to do with the fact that he's a very, _very_ horny teenager and wants to be in Erik's ass _now_.

“Shouldn't take long to get me prepped,” Erik says, much to Charles' pleasure, as he takes off his jeans, tugging off his combat boots along with them. He grabs a packet of lube from his wallet, which he always replaces after they fuck. Charles once teased him, called him desperate, and he just shrugged and said he'd stop if Charles wanted him to. Charles didn't tease him after that.

“No condom?” Charles frowns as Erik throws his wallet down to the ground, down by his jeans. Does this mean they _aren't_ going to go all the way? Not that Charles would be completely adverse to some fingering and blowjobs, but he was _really_ looking forward to Erik riding him.

Erik shakes his head as he tears open the lube packet, positioning himself back on Charles' lap. He squeezes some of the lube onto Charles' fingers, leading his hand back to his entrance. “Want you to come inside me,” he murmurs, kissing below Charles' ear.

Charles nearly shudders at the thought, wants to do that more than anything, wants to do that _right now—_ so he rubs his fingers around Erik's hole, teasing, enjoying the way Erik's breath catches in anticipation. What he enjoys even more is Erik's gasp as he slides the first finger in.

“So loose for me already,” Charles comments, slightly surprised. He can add another finger almost right away.

Erik pushes back onto Charles' fingers eagerly. “Finger fucked myself thinking about you,” he explains, voice strained. “All I could think about was your cock in me, fucking me so goddamn hard I couldn't walk. I wanna ride you until you can't think straight, until all you can see are stars, all you can say is my name.” Erik gasps as Charles adds a third finger, gripping onto Charles' shoulder so tightly he won't be surprised if there are bruises there tomorrow. He gives a long, drawn out moan, and Charles feels a drop of pre-come drip along his neglected cock.

“Do it,” Charles almost commands as he takes out his fingers, too fucking turned on to wait any longer, and Erik would probably protest if he wasn't just as desperate as Charles. He helps lube up Charles' cock before positioning him at his hole. He sinks down just about as slowly as either of them can bear, both of their breathing erratic and hard, as Erik takes in more and more of Charles' length.

Once he's finally sunk down, he manages a smug smirk at Charles' slack jawed expression. Charles can't bring himself to care, too caught up in the feel of Erik's tight heat all around his cock, and he nearly looses it when Erik clenches around him. “Fuck, Erik, just _move_ ,” he grits out, pulling on his hips encouragingly.

Luckily, Erik obeys, lifting himself off before sinking back down, and again, and again. Faster now, as he gets used to the feel of Charles inside of him, even faster as Charles thrusts up to meet him. “Charles,” he gasps when Charles hits his prostate, and Charles just tangles his fingers in Erik's hair, pulling him down to eat his gasps and moans.

There's nothing even slightly romantic about the way they're doing anything. The way Erik is shamelessly riding Charles' cock, the way Charles bites at Erik's lip piercing and pulls a dirty moan from Erik. But yet, somehow, this is different from every other time that they've fucked. It might even be _better_ , because Erik is Charles' and Charles is Erik's, _finally_.

When Charles starts to get close, he reaches between them and starts to stroke Erik, hard and fast, with little finesse. Erik is panting hard, bouncing on Charles' cock fast and short, cheeks flushed with pleasure and extortion. “Come on,” Charles urges, feeling his own balls tighten, ready for his release. “Come on, Erik, come with me—“

And with a loud cry, Erik comes all over Charles' sweater vest, the white very noticeable on the blue, but Charles doesn't care, because he's coming, too, inside of Erik, for the first time. He own come makes it slick as Erik rides him through his orgasm, though it looks like he just wants to collapse. And he does, as soon as Charles stops him, pulling him against his chest.

Erik buries his head in Charles' neck, and it's by far the most intimate way they've ever held each other, even post-coital. Charles eases out of Erik as they catch their breath, not wanting to feel Erik clench around his overly-sensitive cock, and the way he slides out so _easily_ because of his come inside of Erik nearly makes him moan, and it definitely makes him feel all warm inside.

A minute later, Erik sits up some, grinning at Erik. “Good?”

He would tease Erik, say no, but it _was_ good; better than good, actually. “Amazing,” Charles corrects, leaning up for a kiss. This one is soft, just lips, and it simply adds to the fuzzy feeling in his stomach.

“I don't have anything to clean us up with,” Erik says as he gets off of Charles to grab his pants. He visibly shudders, and Charles wonders why until he sees some come sliding down Erik's leg. If he wasn't already completely spent, he could get hard again just from the thought of coming inside of Erik, filling him up with his spunk.

Charles pulls up his own pants and fastens them, carefully removing his ruined sweater vest. “Worth it,” he muses, and Erik laughs at that.

“We can go to my place to get cleaned up. You can stay over, if you want,” he suggests, and Charles is pretty sure that means they'd sleep in the same bed and cuddle. The idea is new and exciting; he and Erik have never been very emotionally intimate, but he can't wait to try and be.

Charles nods, trying not to seem too anxious. “Alright.”

Erik turns to look at his friends, who are still sitting over at the picnic tables—able to see them plain as day. Charles flushes, because they totally just had sex in front of Erik's friends, but Erik doesn't seem too bothered by it. “I'm going home, don't get arrested,” he shouts, beginning to walk away.

“Merry fucking!” Sean's voice calls.

“Don't forget to do this jingle ball rock!” Alex chimes in.

“Use protection next time, for fuck's sake,” is all Emma yells, not dignifying Alex and Sean's lame Christmas sex puns, probably because it's nowhere near Christmas and she doesn't want to encourage them.

Charles makes a noise of agreement. “We probably should,” he states. “That wasn't very responsible.”

Erik glances back at Charles, grin shark-like and oh-so attractive. “Nah, you liked it too much.”

Charles scoffs, cheeks turning red, though they were just starting to cool down from the very dirty, satisfying fuck he just had. “Shut up.”

He has to admit, though, he's glad that Erik doesn't. He hates being ignored, after all.

 

 


End file.
